Much Ado About Pride and Prejudice
by fairygypsy
Summary: Darcy and Elizabeth take a Shakespearean turn as they battle out their differences “in a kind of merry war… they never meet but there is a skirmish of wit between them.”
1. Chapter 1

Much Ado About Pride and Prejudice

Darcy and Elizabeth take a Shakespearean turn as they battle out their differences "in a kind of merry war… they never meet but there is a skirmish of wit between them."

This starts off after Mr. Bingley first enters the neighborhood and returns shortly to London to bring back his sisters and Darcy. However, I've changed it so that Mr. Darcy was originally with Bingley, leaving with him to go to London, and then returning, affording an earlier introduction to Elizabeth that suits my purposes of melding this story with Much Ado. This chapter is my attempt to set up that previous meeting. This story, an attempt to meld two stories I love, and that I recently discovered have much in common! Elaine J.

* * *

"Mr. Bennet! Mr. Bennet," exclaimed Mrs. Bennet, her voice pitched to the shrillest resonance she could register. "Mr. Bingley is to come to the next assembly! And he brings a party with him! Too many ladies to be sure, but men enough for our daughters I tell you!"

Mr. Bennet eyed his wife over the edge of the periodical he read daily. "Really my dear? For I heard he brought no gentlemen but his self." Mr. Bennet returned his eyes to the daily news.

Mr. Bennet's five daughters, however (the very ones who were all soon to wed Mr. Bingley's eligible bachelor friends), were much more excited over their mother's news than either their parents could guess. The youngest and most brazen Lydia sat contemplating the exact gentlemanliness of said gentlemen. Looking towards Kitty, her elder sister of one mere year, she wonderingly inquired, "Is it at all gentlemanly to kiss a girl on the first acquaintance?" The inquiry was made as a mumble under her breath, and Kitty was quite sure that a negative answer would not be acceptable to her younger sister, and therefore, not acceptable to herself. She contemplated the various outcomes of putting such a question to the test.

Mary, the middle daughter on whom all decorum and Christian morality fell heavy upon, was tempted but to a single ten second thought on the matter of gentlemen at all. Her conclusions were thus: it is not at all proper to contemplate gentlemen, and that if she did not squash the inclination that very second, it was very likely to overcome her. She glared disapprovingly at Kitty and Lydia, as if they were the quite confirmed proof of such a matter.

Jane and Elizabeth Bennet's thoughts were at that moment, as consumed with gentlemen as were those of their younger sisters. The twin blushes that occupied space on both Jane's pale cheeks and Elizabeth's tan ones might have indicated as much if anyone had been paying much heed to them. However, as they were most sensible of all five Bennet girls, and truly, of the entire Bennet clan, no one worried themselves over their fates (unless Mr. Bennet was worrying over their matrimonial fates, which happened quite often).

At twenty-one and twenty-three, Jane the eldest and Elizabeth the second eldest, were considered just short of hopeless in the matrimonial arena. And while this fact was most grievously apparent to Mrs. Bennet, Jane and Elizabeth hardly heeded it. For they did not care to be married, unless, that is, if it were to be for love. They were quite content in their relative spinsterhood.

Or they were.

No more than one month ago, the previously mentioned Mr. Bingley had taken up residence in Hertfordshire. Being a single man in possession of a large fortune, all local mamas in possession of unwed daughters naturally considered Mr. Bingley as their rightful property. And none thought more so than Mrs. Bennet, to the chagrin of daughters Jane and Elizabeth, the pious reflection of Mary, and the utter excitement of Lydia and Kitty. And to the amusement of Mr. Bennet.

Another man had also come into town with Mr. Bingley; another single man in possession of a large fortune. Mr. Darcy's fortune was twice that of Mr. Bingley's. Unfortunately, Mr. Darcy's obvious distaste for the local inhabitants and their matchmaking mamas was quite evident from his very first introduction. In fact, he very vocally made it known that he was indeed a bachelor for life. And while this simple, dispassionate fact was all they knew of Darcy, his friend had often been subjected to long tirades on the subject.

"I shall see you before I die look pale with love, Darcy," would laugh the always jolly Bingley.

"With anger, with sickness, or with hunger, Bingley," his brooding friend would reply vehemently, "Not with love. I will live a bachelor." And on this point, Darcy was quiet adamant.

In result, whilst Bingley was invited to dinners and generally thought of as quite a capitol fellow, Darcy was omitted completely from conversation. A man who did not intend to marry, was not a man Hertfordshire wished to recognize.

It was on these two men and a very large secret on which Elizabeth and Jane now dwelled. "It is a lovely day, is it not Jane?" inquired Elizabeth of her sweet tempered sister, giving her a very distinct look.

"It is," was Jane's reply as both girls stood to leave the confines of the family sitting room. No one questioned their exit. Elizabeth was relentlessly active, with an overly abundant source of energy. Her mother hoped she would walk it all out of her before she completely surpassed the marriageable age. She still had time, but it did not look hopeful. Mrs. Bennet shook her head with a sigh as she watched her two eldest daughters strolling away from Longbourn, heads bent confidentially together. She did not wonder what they whispered. They were always whispering.

"Mr. Bingley and Mr. Darcy return, Elizabeth," whispered Jane excitedly, the color rising charmingly in her cheeks.

"That Mr. Bingley returns, I rejoice, that Mr. Darcy returns, I could certainly care less. I hope, instead, that Bingley leaves him in town."

Jane did not answer her, but after a brief pause, changed the topic of discussion. "You do not think anyone has guessed, do you Lizzy?" Jane's pale cheeks, all too easy at developing rosy hues, actually paled further with this question. "What we did, I do not think, was wholly proper."

Elizabeth laughed and patted her sister's arm companionably. "We had no choice in the matter Jane, rain was eminent." Elizabeth was quite sure in her conclusions. Rain had been eminent. In fact, the sky which had started out blue and clear, soon darkened and opened up to drench the poor unsuspecting girls. Elizabeth had been quite irritated that her daily jaunt had been interrupted, but her fear for her sister's health had repressed her own selfish emotions, and she had been quite glad to see and hear the coach rumbling down the quickly muddying road.

The coach had stopped, the window curtain lifted, to reveal the presence of two distinctly handsome and richly dressed personages of the male persuasion.

Jane and Elizabeth Bennet had been the very first in Hertfordshire to meet the amiable Mr. Bingley, and his dark friend Mr. Darcy. Mrs. Bennet would have been overjoyed, and Elizabeth had giggled once to her sister that it was almost cruel of them as daughters to keep such information to themselves. Though it was a joke only, for the knowledge that her two eldest and most sensible daughters had shared a coach and a completely empty Netherfield Park with two strange men, there would quite likely be a scandal. Neither girl was fond of scandal.

And so it seemed, was neither unknown man fond of letting unknown ladies stand helpless in torrential downpours. Mr. Bingley insisted on their riding to his newly let residence and taking shelter until the worst of the storm was over. For lack of more appealing options, the Bennet sisters accepted.

Elizabeth had come to regret that decision, while Jane secretly considered it the most wonderful, if slightly shady, afternoon of her entire life.

Mr. Bingley had quite bravely bared his arm to the rain as he escorted Jane into the conveyance. Jane, as was her nature, alighted into the carriage as gracefully as she did everything else. Elizabeth, who had grace, but usually found it overpowered by sheer delight and exuberance tripped on the slippery step and banged her kneed on the edge of the carriage, a whispered oath escaping her lips as she realized her head would be the next to connect with that damned edge.

But it did not. The next thing to connect with anything of hers was a set of substantially strong arms. Where Bingley had but proffered his arm to the rain to help his lady, Darcy had sent his entire person sprawling out into the deluge to save the lady of dark hair who rather looked, at the moment like a drowned rat. He might not have sacrificed so much had he not caught the angered and frightened glint in Elizabeth's dark eyes as she fell. Seeing them widen, fall from eye level and close tightly sent him jumping from the protection of the carriage in valiant attempt to save the falling lady.

No, it was not the lady's eyes that propelled him thusly. He was a gentleman; there had been nothing else to do. Or so he told himself.

Elizabeth, on raising her glinting eyes and rain soaked lashes to her rescuer, was cognizant of a rather unnatural jolt to her stomach and chest. He pulled her inside and set her across from him. "Are you alright, madam?" he had inquired politely.

"Yes, quite," she assured him.

Those had been the very last polite words either had said to each over the entire course of their short acquaintance.  
Jane woke Elizabeth from her musings. "Truly, he should not have mocked you for your literary preferences. Tragedies are not for everyone you know."

"Yes, I know. But it was not his abuses of my literary preferences that annoyed me Jane, it was his utter refusal to believe in the goodness of women. He sees us all as Lady Macbeths, Queen Gertrudes, Regans and Gonereals! No woman could ever be a Cordelia!"

"And are you a Cordelia, Lizzy?" laughed Jane.

"Not at all! I refuse to die tragically in the end! If anything… I'm Shakespeare's shrew… though not quiet as abrasive or angry as she! She is independently minded. I admire such things."

"Come Lizzy, do not say such things. You will wish to be married when you find a man who will take you as you are." She recognized the defiant look on her sister's face and frowned, turning from her to survey the road ahead, the road leading to London, the road Mr. Bingley would once again be traveling soon, the road she had first met him on. "You will be married Lizzy," she almost whispered.

"No," said Elizabeth, forcing a sigh from her voice and a distant expression from her face, "Thus goes everyone to the world but I… and I am sunburnt."

Jane did not attempt to decipher her sister's speech; Lizzy often talked such ways.

all asterisked lines are direct or slightly modified quotes from William Shakespeare's Much Ado About Nothing


	2. Chapter 2

"They are come Lizzy!" exclaimed Jane to her sister from a slightly shadowed corner of the Hertforshire assembly rooms.

"And is the party as full of ladies as all the town fears?" asked Elizabeth, a hint of humor in her voice.

"Not at all," informed Jane. "Mr. Bingley brought but two ladies, both his sisters, one married."

"And tell me, is the brooding Hamlet returned with him or no?"

"Who, Lizzy?" Jane wished her sister did not so often talk in riddles. "I see no possible connection to Shakespeare. What could you be talking about?"

"Why, Mr. Darcy of course." Elizabeth's best friend Charlotte Lucas made her presence known. She had been the sister's sole conspirator and keeper of the truth of what had happened on that rainy day Mr. Bingley first came to town. "She has been rather vocal about her dislike of the man. Really Lizzy, he could not have so completely offended you in the short span of time you were in each others company!"

"It was not so much that he offended me, but that he is simply an unlikable being; all heavy dark looks and imperious, serious opinions," replied Elizabeth, looking over the heads of the dancers in the small ballroom to the doorway where Mr. Bingley and his small party stood. Mr. Bingley's look was one of utter delight while his entire entourage seemed to be attempting not to touch anything or anyone. Elizabeth sniffed indignantly, but could not keep at bay the amusement she found in their disdainful gazes.

* * *

Bingley's first object of order as he entered the ball, was to seek out a proper introduction to the Bennet sisters. His eyes fought through the groups of girls, soldiers, excited mamas, and bored looking papas, seeking a glimpse of the blonde beauty. She was not hard to find, and he found that by attaching himself to Sir William Lucas (whom he had met before his trip to London) he was soon able to meet, very quickly, anyone of any importance in the small country town. The Bennets, apparently, were of much importance. The Bennet girls were known as local beauties, making them both admired and despised. They were the first family on Sir William's list for introductions. Before even Mr. Hurst (Bingley's over imbibing brother in law) could swig his first glass of port, Bingley was shaking Mr. Bennet's hand.

Mr. Bennet, thinking of his wife's pleasure and his own pleasure when she was not suffering an attack of nerves, was quick to suggest an introduction to his two most sensible and beautiful daughters.

He did not notice the mirth in Lizzy's countenance as he introduced a man she already knew, nor did he notice the guilt in Jane's.

"Come," confided Mr. Bingley as Mr. Bennet took his leave of the young people, "We must find Darcy and make all formalities complete."

Jane and Elizabeth waited as Bingley set out to find and deliver Mr. Darcy to their corner for proper introductions. When Bingley did not quickly return, they decided (or rather Jane did) to follow in his wake. Jane spotted Mr. Bingley's fair head across the room, close to the fireplace, and directed her steps toward it.

"Is not she beautiful, Darcy?" Bingley asked. Mr. Darcy leaned against the mantle of the fireplace; his head resting in his open palm, a bored yet faintly amused expressing dressing his face.

"Would you have me speak the truth; or would you have me speak after my custom, as being a professed tyrant to all females?" Darcy's sarcasm completely eluded his friend, who had not a clue to what he referred. For Darcy, however, the memory was blazed into his mind.

Elizabeth Bennet had been beautiful sitting in front of the roaring fire of the very empty Netherfield Hall. She had also been intelligent, witty, and her eyes practically danced with merriment. The dancing eyes had not been a trick of the fire, as Darcy had at first surmised. No, he had studied them long and hard, and their sparkling quality owed no thanks to any outside entity. Because of his prolonged ruminations on the subject of her eyes, Darcy did not completely understand the hostility she quickly gained toward him. He had thought to win her over by evoking her obviously sharp intellect, but his choice of topic did nothing to help his situation. Literature, it seemed, was an area in which he and the lady did not agree. He preferred sober, more dramatic works, while she was delighted to read anything with a happy ending.

If their literary disagreement had not been enough, the topic soon turned an even more dangerous corner when they began to discuss the role of women in literature, specifically Shakespearean drama. Darcy, having just had a monstrous experience with a country party, a blushing debutante of sixteen, and a mama so determined to secure a wealthy match for her daughter that she was quite adept at maneuvering compromising situations, was not keen at all on the subject of womanhood, a fact that Miss. Elizabeth Bennet found rather offensive. The dreadful conversation, however, ended with an agreement. Neither Mr. Darcy, nor Miss. Bennet was inclined to wed. Ever.

Darcy was jogged from his reverie by Bingley's insistent demands. "Please Darcy, nothing but the truth."

Darcy sighed. "Well, she is too pretty to be called ugly, but not pretty enough to be beautiful."

"Do not joke with me, Darcy. I am deadly serious you know."

"Why is it so important, Bingley?" As if Darcy had not seen his friend fall heavily time after time.

"She is the sweetest angel I have ever seen."

Darcy scoffed. "My sight has not yet faded and I see no such thing. Now her sister, she is spring to your Miss. Bennet's winter. If Miss. Elizabeth Bennet were not so… disdainful, she would be quite lovely."

"Oh really, Mr. Darcy? Perhaps I would not be so disdainful without you here to inspire me to new heights."

Darcy lifted his head abruptly and found himself peering into the scorching eyes of the very topic of his musings.

"Elizabeth!" hissed Jane, appalled at her sister's daring.

"Oh, Miss. Bennet, Miss. Bennet!" exclaimed Bingley, swinging around to face the two ladies behind him. "Let me have the great honor of introducing you to my dearest friend. Mr. Darcy, meet Miss. Jane Bennet and Miss. Elizabeth Bennet." Bingley attempted to use a playful grin to lighten the pressing tension that hung in the air between his friend and the dark haired Bennet sister. It did not work.

"Yes," replied Elizabeth, "I know him of old."

Bingley colored at her words, aghast that she would make such public mention of their secret introduction a month ago. Looking around, he sighed a sigh of relief; no one had seemed to hear her.

Darcy did naught but stare stonily at Elizabeth.

Disconcerted, Elizabeth spoke. "Tis a wonder you came tonight, sir. Balls are usually prime places for matchmaking, and I understood you were not agreeable to this at all. It truly would be no loss if you did not make an appearance." She hesitated, shocked at her own words. Why did this man evoke the worst in her? Opening her mouth to speak once more, she found nothing but stutters on her tongue. His steady, dark eyed gaze disarmed her. Forcing her stutters downward, she determined he should not stare at her so any longer. "Surely no lady is attracted to a man who glares so gloomily at all surrounding him."

Darcy had been trying to keep his silence and his temper. But as one grew stronger, it became quite clear that the other one would disappear all together. He did not know what he spoke before he spoke it. "It is certain I am loved of all ladies, only you excepted." He almost flinched at the arrogance her heard in his own voice. When would he ever have made such a comment before? Never! But he just had. Damn the bewitching and befuddling woman! "I wish I could say my heart was not so hardened towards the fairer sex, Miss. Bennet. For truly, I love none."

"A dear happiness to women! They would else be troubled by a pernicious suitor." Elizabeth was now as lost in the fierce argument as Darcy was. "I thank God I am of your humor for that. I wish never to hear a man _swear _he loves me."

Bingley and Jane, who had been standing dumbly by, shocked by the words flying from their companions' lips, blushed furiously. "Jane," asked Mr. Bingley loudly, "would you dance?"

"Yes, I would," she replied softly, grateful for the escape he offered her.

Darcy and Elizabeth glared equally at each other for several heated seconds before each turned swiftly and neatly on their heels and stomped in the opposite direction.

A considerable amount of dialogue (some paraphrase, some not) is taken from Much Ado About Nothing in this chapter. I could never hope to aspire to such witty depths as Mr. Shakespeare or Mrs. Austen.


	3. Chapter 3

Mr. Hurst, Bingley's brother in law, loved his drink. He had not always been so enamored of spirits. However, a year of marriage to a Bingley sister could, and did, have disastrous effects on his constitution. No, Mr. Hurst had once been a very astute man, sharp in all his senses, witty when he deigned to talk.

Despite the respite he took in alcohol and food, he had been surprised to find comfort in the company and conversation of his always cheerful brother in law. Mr. Darcy, also, had added much amusement to his life. The usually somber man's life was constantly being turned upside down by various fortune hunting brides and mothers. He had very viable reasons to wish to avoid marriage.

A week had passed since the ball at the assembly halls, and Mr. Hurst, Mr. Bingley, and Mr. Darcy lounged in the study at Netherfield Park. They were all dressed quite strangely and had locked the door firmly with hopes that Mrs. Bingley would no longer seek them out to perform menial duties to ready the house for the mask ball.

It is not quite clear who it was precisely that suggested Bingley's ball be a mask, but the idea had so enchanted the man, that he had insisted on it. Mr. Bingley himself was dressed quite ostentatiously, claiming himself King Henry V. Mr. Hurst had declined to dress for the evening, his only acknowledgment to that night's event being the full-faced mask of a baby. He had found the mask rather amusing; his wife had not. Mr. Darcy was dressed all in black. His mask, the black face of a leopard, lay forgotten for the moment on the couch cushion beside him. He joined Mr. Hurst in sipping an amicable wine. Bingley, it seemed, needed nothing to whet his thirst, for he was quite drunk already. Miss. Jane Bennet's beauty was the only thing Bingley wished to drink in. Mr. Darcy also drank because of a Bennet woman, though he kept his intake to a minimum, knowing he might very well have to deal later with a drunken Hurst _and _a love besieged Bingley.

"I'm going to marry her Hurst," sighed Bingley. Darcy scowled and Hurst rolled his head groggily towards his brother in law.

"Who," he asked.

"Why, the beauteous Jane Bennet of course!" exclaimed Darcy.

"I see you do not approve of the match," answered Hurst.

"Hmph," was Darcy's reply. "I do not understand how he can _love _her so completely when he has truly only just laid eyes on her."

"But I feel I do love her!" said Bingley emphatically.

"She is worthy of it!" said Hurst rousingly, remembering the blonde woman with nice figure from the ball a week ago. Nice figures were always worthy.

"And I can neither feel how she should be loved, nor know how she is worthy. Look at her mother, her sisters!" Darcy, feeling that his presence was no longer needed in this room, that the two men would agree with each other, with or without his presence, stood to make his departure. The sounds of the first guests were becoming apparent even in their little hiding spot. He wondered if the Bennets had arrived yet… shaking such thoughts from his mind, he turned one last time to the other two men in the room. "I humbly recognize and acknowledge the role of women in the world, however, that it should induce me to leave behind the enviably independent station of singleness is absurd. I shall die a bachelor!" He swept from the room, black cloaks billowing.

As the door slammed shut behind him, Hurst broke into unrestrained peals of laughter. "He is an obstinate one isn't he?"

"He always has been soin the face of love. But Hurst, I have more pressing matters than Darcy's non existence marriage impulse."

"Ah, yes, Jane Bennet," said Hurst. Bingley sighed at the sound of her name.

"I wish to marry her, Hurst. But… but I do not know if she will accept my advances," the hesitancy in Bingley's voice was unusual for him. He abounded with cheerful enthusiasm and self-confidence.

"You have just only met. She might not know her true feelings as quickly as you do. Let me suggest this, Bingley my boy; I will discover her true feelings for you." Hurst sat back in his leather chair, smug satisfaction writ all over his red-cheeked countenance.

Bingley looked thoughtful, reluctant, hesitant once more. "How could you do this?"

"Easily, quite easily! Polite society, in my experience, is always a bit less polite when hidden behind the confines of masks. I assure you, very inappropriate and even scandalous activity will be happening tonight!" Hurst looked gleeful, Bingley looked quite sick. "Do not worry, Bingley, it will allow me to question the young lady of your heart quite profusely, revealing her true heart to your true mind." At this, Hurst rose. "It is time we joined the crowd Bingley. Your sister has got excellent wine for tonight, excellent indeed."

* * *

"Mr. Darcy is too gloomy, Charlotte," answered Elizabeth in reply to the question: How can you not find Mr. Darcy handsome?

"Then you much prefer a man with Mr. Bingley's disposition," countered Charlotte, casting a playful glance in Jane's blushing direction.

"No, I think not. He is an excellent man that is made exactly midway between he and Mr. Darcy. Mr. Bingley is too the boy, Darcy too much the brooding man." Elizabeth paused a moment, considering her own words. "Yes, such a man would be nice indeed."

"Then you wish for perfection, Elizabeth? You will never get a husband with such expectations."

"And that is fine with me," exclaimed Elizabeth.

"Surely you have more sense, Jane," queried Miss. Lucas.

"Oh," interrupted Elizabeth for her sister, "Yes, she has much more sense than I. Jane truly understands and appreciates the Bennet girls' dire circumstances. She will fall in love to please our father and secure a steady and worthy happiness for herself. But a bit of advice sister, let him be Mr. Bingley who you trust your heart too, or else give father your grave condolences."

Jane blushed prettily once more and Elizabeth wondered how her sister managed to pull off charming and flustered at once. "I will Lizzy," was all she could say before a masked figure tapped her on the shoulder.

"May I have a dance, my lady?" he asked.

Jane laughed. "And who may you be sir?"

"Sire," he corrected gravely. "King Henry V."

"Ah, then I do not know if I wish to dance with such a man. You might cast me aside midway for a more suitable partner."

"But you cannot refuse a king, lady."

No, Jane supposed one could not refuse a king, and so she followed him onto the floor with the other couples.

* * *

Mr. Darcy had seen the Bennet girls come in, but had not dwelled long on the various guises of the younger sisters. He vaguely realized that Jane's white dress and white feathery mask with a rim of pearls, most likely meant she had come as an angel. His eyes naturally followed the Bennet girl in black. Black… he thought, disregarding his own shadowy clothing, was a strange color for a young woman to wear to a ball. The half mask she wore was also black. It was simple, gracefully cut, and accentuated the glossy blackness of her hair. Her curls were particularly wild tonight, the smile on her face practically brimming with mirth.

He found himself pulled to her through the small crowd of newly arrived guests. She was, he realized, with her sister and her friend, the eldest Lucas girl. They were laughing as Elizabeth talked animatedly. Circling closer, as a bird to prey, he checked to make sure his mask hid the whole of his face tightly. He found himself hoping that if she did not realize who he was, she might talk to him with more enjoyment than she had previously.

Her rich deep voice, finally made available to his straining ears, quickly changed such thoughts.

"No, Charlotte, you cannot convince me to think well of Mr. Darcy. But you need not do so. For he is as much of an obstinate bachelor as I am," she paused, thinking. "As I am obstinate," she finished, laughing at her own inadequacy at vocalizing her thoughts.

Darcy snorted as Charlotte patted her friend on the arm and left her to stand alone in the growing throngs of masked people.

"Hello, lady," he said to her from behind, adopting a thick accent so as not to reveal his identity to her.

She spun around, gasping in shocked surprise, her black skirts swirling about her legs. "My!" She looked the masked man in black up and down and let out a mirthful laugh. "A black leopard, I see. What is your devious intent in lurking in the shadows behind young ladies?"

Darcy wondered momentarily if she did recognize him, then decided she did not. She would not be smiling so brilliantly and mischievously if she had. No, she was more likely to affect a glare when talking to him.

"I have but two attempts. I must know. Why does such a lovely young lady don the color of death and mourning?"

"Death and mourning? Is that why you yourself chose to garb yourself all in black? What about mystery, Mr. Leopard? Shakespeare's dark lady is a mystery to us all."

"Ah, is that who I speak to then? The object of a Shakespearean sonnet?"

"Indeed," she laughed.

Then with my curiosity satisfied, I fear I must tell you of a grievous wrong I heard bespoken of your person," he said gravely, accent and mask firmly in place.

"Oh? And what would these remarks be?"

Darcy leaned close to her, inhaling her scent. He almost shuddered at the delight and contentment it sent through his body. He pushed his body's traitorous shudderings aside, and focusing instead on her earlier words about him, he whispered deep and low into her ear. He hovered momentarily, his lips close to the nape of her neck, a dark silky curl tickling his nose, before he drug himself from their intimate pose. He smiled under his mask as her fine eyes widened and her mouth opened slightly.

"Tell me who told you this!" she demanded.

He liked the angry fire that made her eyes come alive. "No, I am sorry lady," he answered; glad she could not see his ever broadening smile.

Elizabeth narrowed her eyes from behind her black mask. "Will you then tell me who you are?"

"No again Lady."

Elizabeth pouted, her eyebrows drawing together over her mask and her lips pursing in frustration. "That I was disdainful? That I had my good humor from a child's joke book? Well, it is obvious. It was Mr. Darcy who told you thus." She crossed her arms resolutely over her chest.

"Who is he?" asked Darcy. He was surprised in the joy he felt that she would recognize that is was he who was teasing her, and that she was very willing to play along.

"Surely you know Mr. Darcy," she asserted. "He is constantly harping on the evils of women, the joys of bachelorhood, and has a constant look of pained gloominess about his face. He is," she said sharply, "Mr. Bingley's fool of a friend, kept around, I am quite sure, for amusement purposes only. Though it grows clear that all who know him grow quickly weary of his antics and ravings."

Darcy's smile evaporate as his own brow pulled low, undetected beneath the leopard mask. "I shall tell him you said so, if I see him," he said, attempting to keep his anger and disappointment from his voice, to keep his tone light and playful.

"Do, do," she said, smiling lightly at him, more with her eyes than with her mouth, though the corners of her lips tilted slightly upward bewitchingly. "But come, they are beginning the dance. Shall we follow the leaders?"

"In every good thing," he answered after a heavy pause, taking her hand in his.

"No, I shall turn away if they try to lead me ill."

"I will not do so lady. Dance with me."

And she did.

* * *

Darcy left the crowded ballroom after his dance with Elizabeth, his mind a storm of thoughts and contradictions. "How could my Elizabeth know me but not know me?" he asked angrily out loud to no one in particular, completely unaware he had come to think of her in the possessive. "Bingley's fool of a friend? I am not perceived as thus! Gloomy perhaps, brooding most likely," he added thoughtfully. "But a fool? No! It is only her view that casts me such a light. Surely society does not perceive me as such."

"What are you raving about Darcy, old boy?" Mr. Hurst strolled lazily into the abandoned hallway Darcy had appropriated as his own. He smiled wryly. "Another spat with the lovely dark lady? I have just talked with her sister. It seems the gentleman who just danced with her told her you have wronged her severely."

Darcy, who had ripped his mask off after exiting the ballroom, scowled viciously at Mr. Hurst. "Not as much as she has wronged me! Or been wrong about me. She told me, thinking I was not myself, that I was a fool! That I was gloomy and brooding!"

Hurst laughed. "You are Darce! You've been brooding since I first laid eyes on you; obstinately casting off a gloomy air even in the presence of the most amusing and charming people.

"But I am no fool!"

Hurst did not get a chance to answer Darcy's exclamation for the ballroom door once again swung open, admitting Mr. Bennet, his two eldest daughters, and Mr. Bingley. The once deserted hallway was fast becoming more popular than Mr. Darcy preferred.

"Surely you are in need of another Drink, Hurst! You look parched.

Mr. Hurst, in fact, was not in need of another drink. He was quite certainly foxed already, and only the dire duty he still had yet to complete kept him from falling asleep peacefully in the hard tile hallway. "Ah, here comes your lady now," smiled the elder man.

"Send me on some purposeful errand, Hurst. By the grace of God, give me some task to occupy my thoughts and to take me as far from _her _as you can get me. I would rather roam across the darkest regions at the world's in search of a wine made by man cannibalistic pygmys than hold three words conference with that harpy!" Darcy's visage raged as he whispered vehemently to his older friend; his arms flailed about in the air as if he were being attacked by a flock of angry birds.

Mr. Hurst smothered a giggle and smiled commonly at Mr. Darcy. "I find I do not desire drink at the moment. All I wish for, Darce old boy, is your company."

Darcy watched as Elizabeth and the others approached and glowered back at Hurst. "I think not Hurst. I cannot endure my lady's tongue!"

Hurst did giggle as the encroaching group looked to him stupefied as Darcy stormed off and out another door at the end of the hallway. "Come Miss. Bennet, you have lost the heart of Mr. Darcy," he said, realizing that perhaps he had had too much to drink. He did not seem to have control of what thoughts popped from his head and out his mouth. He decided that he had not erred too much when the rest of the group, including Elizabeth's father smiled in amusement at his comment.

"Indeed, Mr. Hurst," was her only amiable reply.

"You have hurt him, Miss. Bennet; you have put him down."

"Only so that he should not do the same to me. I would rather make him a fool than be one myself."

Hurst knitted his brows together as he tried to figure her out her thoughts. And while he might have done this in a trice in his quick minded days before marriage, the alcohol that so clouded his senses convinced him quite quickly to give up the effort.

"I have brought Mr. Bingley to you," she told him. "As you asked me to, though why you have asked me to, I'm afraid I have no clue.

"Ah, but you soon will. Mr. Bennet," Mr. Hurst said, turning his attention to head of the Bennet clan, "what are you doing here?" He realized as soon as he said it, that it was a very blunt thing to say.

"Why should I not follow when I see my daughters come into a deserted hallway with a single young man?"

"Brilliant point!" exclaimed Hurst. "And a brilliant stroke of luck as well! Things can progress so much quicker this way."

Everyone exchanged confused looks at Mr. Hurst's smug countenance.

"Bingley, my boy," he said jovially, "I have ascertained your lady's true affections. The lovely Miss. Jane Bennet is quickly on her way to being quite as in love with you are you are with her!"

Jane, looking quite embarrassed as she stared mortified at her father before dropping her gaze to the floor, blushed redder than Elizabeth had ever seen her blush.

"What say you ask her father now, and have this settled?" declared Mr. Hurst, quite confidently.

Silence enveloped the room. Though Bingley was rather overjoyed at Hurst's revelations, he did not know at all what to say. Neither it seemed, did anyone else in the room.

It was finally Mr. Bennet who broke the silence. "I believe, that if this is truly the way of things, then that is a capitol idea Mr. Hurst." Both older men looked toward Mr. Bingley and Jane, who were both now staring at their shoes.

"Well?" they said simultaneously.

Jane and Bingley looked up at each other, their constantly cheerful smiles now radiating, brightening the room. "Will you, Jane? Will you marry me?"

Her answer, had they been alone, might have been to throw her arms around his neck, however, due to the presence of both Mr. Hurst, and her father, she sweetly answered, "Yes."

Elizabeth beamed and flung her own arms around her sister's neck. "Oh Jane! How wonderful! I wish you all the happiness God can give a woman!" The sister's held each other's hands and smiled warmly. "Good Lord for alliance," said Elizabeth. "Thus goes everyone to the world but I!" The last was an exclamation, a challenge, and as she turned her back and traipsed back into the ballroom, Mr. Hurst could not help but think that it would be quite amusing to accept such a challenge.

"She cannot endure to talk of a husband!" exclaimed Hurst.

"No," laughed Jane, "She is rather obstinate in that regard."

"She is the perfect wife for Mr. Darcy," stated Hurst plainly.

Bingley gasped. "They would slay each other with their words in a week, Hurst!"

Hurst looked thoughtful, and then shared a conspiratorial glance with Mr. Bennet.

"Do you dare play matchmaker with my daughter, Hurst?"

"I do indeed. Bingley, when will you travel to London to secure the marriage license?"

"Tomorrow!" he exclaimed.

"No, Bingley, wait but a week. No," said Hurst seeing a protest on Bingley's lips, "Do not protest. The week will not pass dully. For we will play cupid, and bring these two spouting mules to a common understanding, shall we not?"

The group thought it over. Mr. Bennet was the first to pass judgment on Mr. Hurst's plan. "Though I do not wish to play with my daughter's affections, I have a feeling about this Darcy fellow. He amuses me. Is he a good man? Truly?"

"The best!" assured Bingley.

"A capitol fellow," agreed Hurst.

"He's quite a respectable and responsible gentleman, papa," spoke Jane softly.

"Then I will play your game Hurst, as long as my Lizzy does not suffer."

"I am in," said Bingley. "I have the feeling he is already half in love with her, and simply refuses to acknowledge his feelings."

"And you Miss. Bennet?" asked Mr. Hurst. "Are you in?"

Jane thought momentarily, and then did something she never did, listened to her impulsive instinct. "Yes," she said with a sly smile.


	4. Chapter 4

Jane's usual grace failed her as Bingley handed her into the waiting carriage full of Bennets. Her foot slipped on the first step, twisting at an unusual angle. It was lucky for her that her new fiancé was handing her in (though perhaps it was due to his distracting presence that she fell at all) or she might have fallen as hard as Elizabeth might have fallen on that rainy day one month earlier.

A doctor was summoned. Jane's ankle was broken and she could not be moved. Bingley paced outside the bedroom door the sick Jane lay behind, listening to the sounds of retching from within when Elizabeth lighted through the sick room. When Mr. Bennet had coerced the rest of his family back home, Elizabeth had refused to leave her sister behind. She must chaperone, she insisted; she must nurse, she defiantly stated. No one had challenged her.

"She is sick from the pain," Elizabeth explained to Mr. Bingley's worried countenance. She has never taken pain well, but the doctor has given her laudanum. She will sleep now."

"Thank God!" sighed Mr. Bingley before giving Elizabeth an examining look. "You are weary yourself Miss. Bennet, I will have someone show you to a room."

"One close to Jane's?" inquired Elizabeth.

"Of course, if that is your desire."

"Thank you Mr. Bingley, you have been a wonder tonight. You must know how happy I am that you are soon to be my brother." She gave him a genuine smile that soon turned into a yawn. And Bingley, ever the conscientious gentlemen, had her behind her own chamber door (right next to Jane's) before she could even finish.

* * *

"It's rather convenient, do not you think Bingley, that we should have both Bennet sisters so wonderfully and closely situated," reflected Mr. Hurst at breakfast the morning after the masked ball at Netherfield.

"I should say not! I would not have Jane sick for the world!" His face turned white. "You should have heard her… last night…" Bingley pushed his plate away and leaned back in his chair, closing his eyes and placing a hand over his abdomen.

"It is hard that poor Jane Bennet should be hurt to bring them here, but it is quite advantageous for our matchmaking plans." Hurst looked quite satisfied, as if Jane's broken ankle had been just the first successful part of his plan. "Join me in the garden? I saw Darcy escape out there not more than ten minutes ago. What do you say we put our plan into practice?"

"I do not think it'll work, Hurst. But I'll give it a try," answered Bingley dubiously, rising from the table with Hurst, who stuffed a muffin in his jacket pocket.

The garden was rather dry. There had been a draught and the leaves of the trees were dry and dull. Darcy, however, did not seem to notice. He was seeking solitude, and the garden had seemed the perfect place for such a quest. Which is why he hid when he heard Bingley and Hurst approaching.

"Do you see him, behind the rose bushes?" asked Bingley.

"Yes. It seems he does not wish to be disturbed. Well, he will not have to worry about that. We'll simply continue our conversation," replied Hurst with a laugh. "You can not be serious, Bingley!" he said in a rather loud voice. "I would not believe you were it not that you have found out about it from a very reliable source."

"Oh yes, Jane and her Miss. Elizabeth share everything," said Bingley, assuming Hurst's rather dramatic tone.

"But to say that Miss. Elizabeth Bennet is so distraught for love of Darcy is incredible! I cannot believe it! I will not!" He laughed boisterously.

"Oh, do not make fun, Hurst. My dear Jane says her sister is miserable in her love. She daily and nightly admonishes herself for falling in love with such a professed woman hater as Darcy."

"Indeed, indeed. If this is the case, then her plight is hard." Both men nodded solemnly at each other. "I believe you tell the truth. I see it all now. She fights him because she is fighting an affection that will only cause her pain. For Darcy, with all his pride and arrogance will never find her fit enough to consider for marriage. Even if she is the most strikingly beautiful woman I've ever seen. Such fine eyes."

"Gorgeous! Not more so than my own dear Jane, but then they are sisters!"

Hurst laughed. "Too true my friend. But it is a lost cause, Bingley, a lost cause."

"But no! Something must be done! Jane says she is afraid Elizabeth will hurt herself with her grief. She sobs and gnashes her teeth and cries out, 'Requite my love Darcy!' though she knows he never will. We must tell Darcy."

Hurst rolled his eyes at Bingley's over dramatic sentiment and said, "No, Darcy must not know. He will but tease her, make her life a living hell. You know that Bingley. You have heard how he rails against love and marriage. No, he must not know." Both men looked thoughtful, walking together in reflective silence.

"You are right, Hurst," Bingley finally replied. "We will not tell Darcy, we will pray for Miss. Elizabeth, and we will go for a ride… shall we not?"

"Yes, we shall, I feel like a bit of sport myself."

Once they were out of the garden and out of earshot of Darcy, both men broke into peals of laughter. "If Darcy does not start to rethink his own position on marriage after this, he is a fool," said Hurst.

"And if he does take the bait, then we are the only Gods of Love!"

Hurst rolled his eyes.

* * *

Darcy could not speak for several seconds. His mind was a confused mess of words and phrases. "Distraught with love for…me!" he finally exclaimed. "I would not believe it but that Bingley has it straight from the mouth of Jane, and neither Jane nor Bingley seem capable of deception. Elizabeth, dearest, loveliest… I will return your love! There is truly no reason not to. That Bingley would think his fiancée more beautiful than Elizabeth is insane! It is not so. And she is all that a man of my standing would want in a wife. She is intelligent… except for loving me… but that is no detraction either." A small smile hinted at the corners of his mouth. "I will not be proud," he spoke, tempering his smile into a serious thin line. "She is, after all, a gentleman's daughter, a virtuous, beautiful, wise gentleman's daughter." He frowned. "But I will be teased for jumping into something I have for so long railed against. But does that matter? No! I would not touch food as a child that I delight in now. Will I keep Bingley's and Hurst's vain quips keep me from the next stage in my life? No… the world must be peopled!" And, he thought, Elizabeth was just perfect for such an occupation. "When I said I'd die a bachelor… I did not think I would live till I were married," Darcy said quite convincingly with a serious nod of his head.

A flash of bright clothing in an upstairs window attracted his attention. Elizabeth looked out, her hair a mess of curls around her face, her face blank with exhaustion and reflection. She looked outward, towards Longbourn, towards her home.

"She is a vision," said Darcy breathily "Does she think of me? Is that why she looks so sad?" Darcy shook his head, tore his gaze from her face, and left the garden.

* * *

Bingley could not even be persuaded to bathe before seeking the bedside of his injured Jane. Bounding up the stairs two at a time, he saw Elizabeth enter the room ahead of him, and realized that this interruption of his visit might prove valuable in Hurst's plan. Entering the room and smiling wide at his fiancée, he noticed that Elizabeth was rummaging in the water closet on the other side of the room. Winking atrociously at Jane, he knelt by her bedside and smiled.

"I'm so glad to have found you alone, dearest," he said, hoping the words would keep Elizabeth busy where she was hidden, but in clear earshot of the conversation. "Are you in much pain?"

Jane was confused. Bingley's winking had become quite rapid and over exaggerated. "No. But… are you alright, Mr. Bingley?"

"Why whatever do you mean?"

"Your eye… is there something in it? Perhaps you've scratched it."

"My eye? Oh!" Bingley laughed heartily and stilled his twitching lids. "My eyes are fine now that they rest on you." Jane blushed and took her hand in his, with one more wink for good measure. "I must tell you the most remarkable news." Jane smiled and shook her head in compliance, realizing finally that the matchmaking scheme devised by Mr. Hurst was being put into play. "I have just heard, from my valet, that Mr. Darcy is in love with your sister!"

"He's… he's… in love! With Elizabeth? I have seen no signs. He appears to… he appears to hate her so."

"Oh yes, I know, I know. But, both Darcy and I have had the same valets since our university days. And you can't expect them not to at least talk with each other now and then. Of course they do," answered Bingley, not even waiting for Jane's reply to his statement. "Chilvers, my own man, had quite an interesting discussion with Baxter, Darcy's valet. It seems that Darcy mumbles when dressing. And bathing… and shaving." This was truth. For Bingley knew two things. One, Darcy did have a tendency to mumble all the time, and second, that and tiny truth that can be given to a lie gives it more credibility.

"What does he mumble about?" asked Jane.

"Elizabeth," was Bingley's one word answer before continuing. "He mumbles of brown curls and sparkling eyes, a teasing manner and an adventurous spirit. He whispers of a witty, intelligent woman for a wife. He mumbles Elizabeth Darcy over and over, a mantra almost. Baxter has become quite disturbed.

"Elizabeth? My Elizabeth… and Mr. Darcy?" Jane had been pretending to be asleep when her sister had entered her room, and knew that Elizabeth did not know her she knew she was there. Elizabeth was very still in the wash closet, not a movement could be distinguished, not a breath could be heard.

"Do not tell her of it," said Jane.

"But I have to. I've discussed this with Hurst, and we both agree it is the only thing to do. Darcy is a good man, is he not? Does he not deserve as good a bride and your sister would make him?"

"Oh indeed Mr. Bingley! Mr. Darcy is a very fine man indeed, else you would not be friends with him."

"Very true, dearest. He is the noblest of gentlemen, the most intelligent. Women throw themselves at them and men vie to hold one minutes conversation with him. We must tell your sister, Jane. You do not think she will scorn him do you!"

Jane bit her lip. "Yes, Mr. Bingley, I do believe she will scorn him. You have seen her incessant teasing of the man. There is not a man she has met that did not escape her contemptible tongue. Every good nature is turned inside out with her mocking words. Do spare Mr. Darcy her teasing. It would be better that he expire from longing for her hand than to have his love tempered in the fires of her wit." It was difficult for Jane to speak so of her favorite sister, but knew that a condemnation of her manners might be the only way to get Elizabeth to take stock of her own judgmental nature. Jane looked thoughtful for a moment before continuing. "Rather, Mr. Bingley," she said seriously, "advise your friend against such a fatal mistake as declaring himself. She will never do the man justice."

"And then… are these your true feelings in the matter, Jane?" asked Bingley.

"Indeed, they are."

"Well, then, I will council him against his heart, to save it." Jane smiled at him and he confounded her with his next question. "Will you marry me next week, Jane? I've spoken to your father. He wishes to be done with this bridal to do as quickly as possible, and you know I am not opposed to it if you are not."

Jane flushed a bright hue of red, vibrant against the porcelain pale of her slip neck and the light golden braid that laid limp over her shoulder. "If that is what you and father wish, then I am content and overjoyed to be your bride as soon as tomorrow!"

Overcome with joy, Bingley kissed her full on the lips before running to the door. "I've much to do! There must be a special license obtained you know." Bingley turned thoughtfully before leaving the room. "Jane, love, would you like to leave the room for a bit? Come to the library for afternoon tea with Elizabeth, Caroline, and Louisa?"

"Very much so! But I cannot get there I'm afraid," she said, her face downcast.

"I will take you! I'll call your maid to dress you. I'll be right outside to bring you downstairs when you're ready. Is that acceptable?"

"Very much so, Mr. Bingley," Jane replied, flushing once more.

"Charles, love, call me Charles," he said before turning swiftly and departing the room with a decisive thud of the door.

* * *

Elizabeth, who did not wish to be discovered in what she thought was her hiding spot, stayed silent and still until Bingley had come to take Jane downstairs. She was happy for her sister's imminent matrimonial bliss, but was rather distracted from this familial joy by other, more confusing matters.  
Mr. Darcy loved her! She had always thought him handsome. And he was obviously a sharp, intelligent man, even if he was annoying at times. But things had not added up before. That jolt of something pressing and thunderous that had struck her entire being when Mr. Darcy had saved her from falling to the muddy ground on their first meeting had never entirely left her. It was always there at the edge of her consciousness, flaming into full awareness whenever he was near, aching horribly whenever they fought. And though he aggravated her, their verbal sparing were always stimulating, leaving her breathless and mentally enlivened after he or she had stalked off.

She had known the man in the leopard mask at the ball had been her adversary. Not until he had stooped low to whisper in her ear, but then she had known with no doubt whatsoever. That jolt, that bit of thunder he had first left inside her with a single glance had immediately blazed to life.

She… she quite believed she was in love with the man.

The man whom her future brother in law was at this moment most likely warning against her waspish tongue and woman's pride.

"Am I truly as bad as Jane describes," she wondered to herself, leaving the water closet to sit on the rumpled end of Jane's bed. "Do I truly care more for my wit than for the heart of a good man? Will I thusly deny myself the matrimonial happiness that awaits my sister because… because why? What real reasoning do I have to submit? None!" She jumped from the bed and went to stand at the window where she had seen Mr. Darcy in the garden earlier that morning. "Love on Mr. Darcy," she whispered to the window pain, her breath a hint of fog on its surface. "I see no reason to censure you when I should be censured myself. Love on… and I will love you too."


	5. Chapter 5

Caroline Bingley frowned at her reflection in the looking glass. She looked rather pale today, washed out. Her lips were pressed firmly together in a line and her eyes shot daggers at her own image.

How could her fool of brother marry that Bennet girl! It was insupportable. She simply would not have it. She turned her scowling gaze from the mirror to the window. The country view was horribly wild, she thought. She could not imagine how a view of trees and grass could be preferred to that of rooftops and expensive brick houses packed tightly together in the city. She would leave the country as soon as possible. And she would bring her brother with her, without a wife.

She turned her dissatisfied scowl on her ladies' maid who was standing stiffly in the corner of her room; quiet as if she were there, but close at hand to instantly do her lady's bidding.

"Sarah," crooned Caroline, forcing her lips into a smile. "I am in a horrid mood."

"Your brother's approaching wedding," answered the perceptive Sarah.

"Exaclty. It must not take place. It would be unseemly to have him marry a woman so beneath him."

"Yes ma'am," agreed Sarah without even a shake of her head, a bat of her lids.

Caroline sighed. "He will not give her up easily. I fear he is completely besotted."

"Yes ma'am."

"I fear I shall have to stoop to trickery, deceptiveness."

"Yes ma'am."

"Your assistance will be necessary unfortunately. So will the assistance of your…" Caroline was quite aware of the fact that her ladies' maid was in the midst of a rather intimate affair with a young, strapping footman. She eyed the girl. Right height, right hair color… that's all that would matter. "I will pay your intimate friend and you enough money to marry if that is what you wish."

Sarah understood her mistress, though not completely, as the scheme that was forming in Miss. Bingley's mind was not yet clear to her. "What is it you wish me and Jos to do, Miss. Bingley?"

Miss. Bingley's grin was vicious. "Only what you are already doing already."

* * *

Elizabeth peeked into the drawing room, hoping Mr. Darcy would not be in there with his friend and her sister. She did not wish him. She did not think she could face him, knowing what she did.

But she was being silly. And she always counted on herself to be the last to act silly. It was simply not one of her traits. Laughing at herself and steeling her spine, she confidently pushed the door open and smiled at the room's occupants. Of which Mr. Darcy was not one. Strangely, she felt more disappointment that relief, but she ignored the compulsion to mull over her own feelings in favor of focusing on the couple with golden heads bent close together, sitting close to the window.

"Jane," she said happily. "Mr. Bingley, what have you done with my sister? She should be upstairs in bed, but I find her ensconced up on a couch in here? How, pray tell, did she come to be so?"

Bingley flushed and pulled himself upright in his chair, further from Jane who was reclining on a nearby couch, her ankle propped on a stack of pillows and covered modestly by a thin white blanket. "I carried her here Miss. Bennet. She admitted to being tired with her sick room, and I thought the library would be a nice change."

"How very attentive of you Mr. Bingley."

"Elizabeth," spoke Jane, "Father has agreed to let Mr. Bingley and me marry by the weeks end!"

"Indeed!" exclaimed Elizabeth, feigning surprise. "But… however will you manage that, sister?" Jane and Bingley gave her confused looks. "You cannot stand in front of a church to be married if you cannot stand at all!" Both Jane's and Bingley's faces fell, their bodies draining of their joy before Elizabeth's very eyes.

"Oh, Mr. Bingley!" exclaimed a distressed Jane. "How did we not consider such a thing! How could we, I especially, have forgotten my own infirmity?"

"Surely there is something we can do to fix this matter. Though… I would wish to do nothing to impede your healing." Bingley, frowned and scratched his head at the base of his neck, deep in thought. "We must simply wait until your ankle is healed, and you are well again."

Jane looked crestfallen, having been the own downfall to her impetuous wedding plans. Seeing the pained expression on his fiancée's face, Bingley quickly assured her that a slight delay would be nothing whatsoever. They could endure it.

"No," spoke Elizabeth defiantly. There shall be no delay. A happiness as great as yours should not have to wait for complete fulfillment! Come Jane," she said, moving closer to the couch and extending a hand. "Put your good foot on the floor and keep your injured foot raised. Lean on me for support." Jane did as she was told, never once wincing in pain. Elizabeth and Bingley both searched her face for signs of distress and were rewarded by the complete lack of them. "Is there pain, jane, any pain at all?"

Jane hesitated before answering. "It… feels funny," she replied, "But there is no pain."

"It feels funny?" questioned Bingley. "Then you should lay down again at once."

"Yes, yes," agreed Elizabeth, "But… perhaps if you rest for the entire week, until the day of the wedding, then even that funny feeling shall pass when you stand. You could stand on one foot, and use a wooden crutch. Or if you prefer, Mr. Bingley or I could be your crutch. We can hem your dress so that no one sees you standing on one foot alone. What do you say," she asked, smiling at the both of them. "Is it a plan that could save your impetuously laid wedding plans?" Her smiled turned gentler and her gaze rested on her sister. "Will you do this Jane, or do you think it is not a wise plane. We will not implement it without your approval." She knew Bingley would approve of anything that aided him in marrying Jane as soon as possible."

Jane smiled tentatively. "Yes, that appears to be a wonderful plan indeed!"

"Capitol!" exclaimed Bingley. "Simply marvelous! You are a wonder Miss. Bennet. For saving our wedding, I am yours forever." His smile was warm and lighthearted and Elizabeth returned his smile in like.

_I wish only, Mr. Bingley, _she thought, _that you would not warn Mr. Darcy against me. _Her eyes darkened as her smile continued, but then, buoyed by the thought of her sister's happiness, sparkled quickly once again as she turned and left the happy couple to their own whispers and musings on love.

* * *

Darcy had managed to avoid Elizabeth all day, and had been grateful that Jane had decided to take her dinner in her room and that Elizabeth had elected to join her. He had needed to avoid her, to think out his overwhelming attraction for her. He had at first doubted his feelings, believing them to be only because of Bingley and Hurst's revelations in the garden. But no, they had been there before. They had been there before even his annoyance with her. He knew now, after long deliberation, that he had antagonized her and steeled himself against her simply because he was drawn to her. And he had been sure she had not felt the same. He had not yet been rejected by any woman of his acquaintance, and shied away from being rejected from the one woman with whom acceptance would mean all to him.

Truly, he had done a miserable job of convincing himself of his own dislike, for he could not keep himself away from Elizabeth the night before at the masquerade. He had not been able to stop himself from leaning close to whisper in her ear when it quite simply had not been necessary.

He smiled at his reflection in the full-length mirror. "Baxter," he inquired of his valet, "The green jacket, or the blue?" His dark coloring favored the green, which he wore, but he knew the blue would emphasize the strength of his shoulders. Baxter brought forth the blue jacket as Darcy began to hum. He had never heard his master hummed before. But he also had never seen Darcy plan out his wardrobe the night before he would be wearing it. It was most unusual behavior for the young man, but Baxter did not question it. Darcy held the blue coat up next to him, considering both suits in the mirror's reflection.

"Darcy?"

Mr. Darcy jumped and turned to stare at Bingley and Hurst who stood in his open doorway, grinning stupidly. "That," cried Mr. Hurst, "Sounds like the song of a man in love!"

"Could it be?" questioned Bingley. "Surely love has not made the stern Mr. Darcy his fool!"

"Be gone! The both of you," exclaimed Mr. Darcy. "I am no fool! And certainly not for love!" He realized that he would have to tame his mouth to his heart before he could reveal his heart through his words.

"Perhaps not a fool for love, but a fool for a certain lady," prompted Bingley. Darcy would have answered him scathingly had not their teasing banter been interrupted.

"Brother, Mr. Hurst," spoke Caroline from down the hall. I wish to speak with you." As she approached the door, she glimpsed Darcy as he removed his green jacket, tossing it onto him bed. She stopped dead in her tracks to admire the man in his shirtsleeves.

"Caroline. Caroline! Caroline!" yelled Bingley. "What is it you wish to speak of?"

"It is a matter of grave importance. You must all drop your current occupations and follow me." She included Darcy in this sentiment, hoping he would not pull on the blue jacket his valet held before following her and her brothers. Indeed, she almost wished her brothers would not follow at all. Just Mr. Darcy…

But this train of thought was not conducive to her current ends, though they might be conducive to a very desirable end.

"Is it that terribly important, Caroline," asked Hurst.

"Do you still intend to marry Miss. Bennet, Brother," she asked of Bingley.

"Of course!"

"Then you will all want to follow me post haste." With these words, she turned on the spot and flounced down the hallway. Hurst and Bingley exchanged looks of acquiescence. And began to follow Caroline.

"Will you come, Darcy," asked Bingley over his shoulder.

"Hm?" said Darcy whose mind had already flitted to other thoughts, "Oh, no, I do not believe I will." He studied his reflection. The blue, definitely the blue.

* * *

The moon was high and full and cast a bright glow over the garden. Hurst and Bingley trotted to keep up with Caroline, running into her as she came to a sudden stop behind a tree. The bows hung low and concealed them from sight.

"What are we doing out here, Caroline?" Hurst had no patience for his sister in law's foolishness.

She turned her gaze from house and stared stonily at the two men close to her. "Bingley, brother, you will not like what I have to show you, but I fear you should know this, if you are to marry Miss. Jane."

Bingley looked at his sister in confusion. "Know what?"

"My ladies' maid confided in me this morning that the footman who she had been seeing… shall we say… intimately has spurned her affections of late."

"What," boomed Hurst, interrupting, "does a maid's love life have to do with Bingley's wedding?"

"Patience, Hurst," snapped Caroline, "I am coming to that. There is a reason the footman in question has turned from my maid. He has found another. He has found a lady he believes will marry him and elevate his status; make him a great country gentleman."

"What are you saying, Caroline?" growled Bingley, not knowing quite where this was going, but feeling acutely that he did not like it.

"I am sorry, Charles. But the lady is Miss. Jane. And I am afraid that the footman's dreams of social elevation are quite possible. For if Miss. Jane is carrying his child, she will have to marry him. Unless," Caroline hesitated, noticing the almost lethal glint in her brother's eyes, the way his fists were clenched tightly against his sides. "Unless she meant to marry you, and raise the footman's child as your own." She fell as silent as the rest of the garden, casting an immovable stoniness over her features, awaiting Bingley's reaction.

"You go too far Caroline. I know you believe the Bennets to be beneath us, but I thought you liked Jane." His voice was cold and emotionless, his face impassive.

"I did, poor brother. And I would not have believed my maid had I not seen… had I not seen that." She pointed through the tree's low hanging branches and towards a small rectangular window on the second floor of the house. Jane's window.

Caroline wasted but a minute on the tableau above her. From the back, the woman being passionately kissed in the window was most certainly Jane. If she had not known better herself, she would have been fooled. The scene would be believed. She did not doubt it in the least. She turned her gaze quickly towards Bingley, and was quite delighted by the reaction that suffused his features. Anger, disbelief, confusion, and hurt all played about his eyes and lips, emotions fighting for prominence in his face.

Jane was cheating on him with another man. Jane… was a… a loose woman. A whore.

His heart was crushed, ground under the hard heels of Caroline's shoes.

* * *

Wearing the blue jacket, Darcy exited his bedroom that morning in nervous anticipation. He would not be able to avoid Elizabeth this day. He would see her at breakfast in a minute or two, and he looked forward to smiling at her brilliant eyes instead of scowling at them.

"Mr. Darcy," spoke a shy voice from behind him. It was Elizabeth's voice. He had never thought her shy before, but her tone of voice could not be mistaken. He knew the reason for it, and rejoiced.

"Yes, Miss. Bennet?" he asked, turning to face her. She peeked out from her sister's room, her hair pulled back, but messy. Her eyes still held signs of sleep, but he knew their groggy depths held sparks waiting to be rekindled.

"I was wondering if you would do me a great favor." She bit her bottom lip and looked at him pleadingly.

"Anything you ask, I will do."

She smiled shyly and him, and he realized the smile wakened her eyes, and he exulted at being able to produce such a phenomena. "My sister would like to join us downstairs for breakfast. I was going to get Mr. Bingley when I saw you and thought that… perhaps… you could carry her down." Elizabeth bit her lip once more, and pulled on a curl at the nape of her neck.

"I will," answered Darcy, wishing it were Elizabeth and not her sister he would be holding in his arms. If Bingley saw, he might very well call him out! But if Elizabeth wished it, he would do it.

Jane was light, and blushed prettily while thanking him profusely for his help and conveyance. But he barely heard a word, for his mind was on the lady who walked beside him, not the one he held. He set the eldest Miss. Bennet down on a settee in the breakfast room and chose a seat close to Elizabeth's. However, he was not able to inquire of her sleep before Bingley came into the room, followed closely by Mr. Hurst and Caroline.

"The carriage is ready to take you home. Maids are packing your belongings this very instant." he spoke coldly, looking at first Jane then Elizabeth. His back was as straight as steel and his shoulders were set defiantly. All of the amiable charm was gone from his face. The Bennet sisters look startled, and it was Darcy who spoke first.

"What is this about, Bingley? Miss. Bennet is in no condition to be moved. You know the doctor said not to put her in a carriage!"

A muscle in Bingley's jaw twitched as he shifted his gaze to his friend. "She will stay under my roof no longer. If you wish Miss. Elizabeth to stay, then let her, but her sister will leave immediately."

"What is the meaning of this Bingley! That is no way to treat a woman you wish to make you wife in a few days time!" Darcy was incensed for the Bennet girls. As soon as he had made up his mind to liking them, Bingley had to completely change his. In his mind, Bingley's was the greater sin, for he was mistreating the woman he intended marriage _after _he had already professed his love. Darcy had only mistreated the object of his affection before.

"You would not marry a lady who was not a maid, Darcy, do not think that I will!"

"What!" exclaimed Elizabeth and Jane together. "You dare to slander her honor!" Elizabeth stood and stalked toward Bingley. "Speak plainly Mr. Bingley, for I would know why you speak so meanly!" She was yelling now, and Darcy rose and pulled her away from the man she was glaring daggers at.

"Look how she blushes at my accusations! You do seem the innocent bride! But you are not!" Jane could not speak, she could not speak, she was sure the words spilling from her intended's mouth must be part of some horrid nightmare. Bingley turned his rage on Darcy and Elizabeth. "She knows the heat of a luxurious bed!" His eyes were wild and spit flew from the corner of his mouth as he threw the accusation forth.

"What do you mean, Bingley," spoke Mr. Darcy sternly, holding tight to Elizabeth's arm when she moved to throw herself at the offending gentleman before her.

"I will not marry an approved wonton!"

"What have you done, Bingley! How could you yourself defile a woman before marriage and then refuse to marry her? Indeed, to ruin her yourself and then cast her aside!" Darcy was furious now, and pushed Elizabeth behind him to confront Bingley himself.

"Not me! I did not touch her! I never thought of betraying her maidenhood with temptation!"

Jane finally found words, saying, "Did I ever tempt you sir? I did naught but love you with my eyes and heart!"

"Oh, Miss. Bennet! You seemed the very epitome of innocence! But your betrayal is in your false appearance. You have been found out!"

"Hurst," said Darcy, "Why do you let the boy speak so? Still his tongue!"

"I do not trust my own voice and judgment. I, who helped bring about the connection of my brother in law to a common strumpet!" Hurst remained in the doorway, impassive, silent.

"Proof!" demanded Elizabeth. "What proof do you have of these hateful, damning words?"

"Answer me this question, Miss. Bennet," replied Bingley, focusing his gaze on Jane. "Who was the man you were with last night in your room?"

"What man?" asked Jane in distress, tears spilling from her eyes. "I do not know of any man! I was with Elizabeth while I ate, and then alone. I was alone last night!"

"No, you were not! Mr. Hurst, Caroline and I saw you. YOU! With a man, in the window of the empty bedroom next to your own." He spat out the words, hurt and anger emblazoned on each one.

"No, no Charles, it was not me, I swear it, I swear it!" She could not stop her tears now, and Elizabeth clung to her while she sobbed unheeded in front of all.

"Do not address me so informal, madam." Bingley turned his back, glad she was hurting as much as he, but not able to look upon her pain. "If all love is as yours, I will never give my heart again. Beauty is naught to me now but falsehoods and betrayals. Your supposed virtue and goodness the biggest trick of all." He fell silent as he placed his hand on the door handle. "Leave my house," he said.

The door opened and Bingley left with Hurst and Caroline in tow. Mrs. Hurst looked shocked and confused as she stiltedly lifted herself from her chair and left after few failed attempts at speaking. Darcy turned to the Bennet sisters behind him to see that Jane had fainted. Elizabeth held her closely.

"Jane, Jane. You must wake up. All will be well. I promise. Wake up, Jane, please wake up." She was holding back tears and knew she had to get her sister away from this house and back home before word spread quickly to her parents on the gossip line of servants.

"Slap her," ordered Darcy, kneeling down near the settee.

"What?"

"Slap her. We must wake her and get her in the carriage. It is the only way."

Elizabeth saw the truth in this and bit her lip lightly before pulling back her hand and hitting her sister on the cheek. She had never hit her sister before. Not even when they were children. Jane awoke with a startled cry and wild, darting eyes. When they fell on Elizabeth and Darcy, new tears began to spill.

"I will take you to the carriage, Miss. Bennet," explained Darcy softly. I will escort you home." Both girls assented to Darcy's plan, and Elizabeth went upstairs to check on the maid's progress in packing their belongings as Mr. Darcy carried her sister to the waiting carriage. The packing was not done, and Elizabeth sent the maids from the room in a sharp voice that was obeyed immediately. She pulled a shawl from the window seat and turned to drop it into her bag but could not move her legs. They buckled beneath her and she fell to her knees in front of her window, dropping her numbed face into her palms and taking deeps draws of breath. Large drops spilled out between her fingers and dampened the cushion on the window seat she had laid her head on.

She felt a soft touch on her shoulder. "Elizabeth," came Darcy's deep voice, "Have you cried all this time?"

Elizabeth lifted her head and stared out the window, barely registering that Darcy's hand still rested on her shoulder. "Yes. And I do not believe I will stop just yet."

"Please…do. I do not wish to see you weep."

"It does not matter."

"Elizabeth, I do not believe your sister guilty of the crimes that have been flung at her. She is innocent."

"Thank you for your confidence, sir." She laughed a laugh devoid of happiness and humor. "But it is not confidence I need. I need only a man who will right this wrong. Such a man would have my eternal gratitude."

"What can I do Elizabeth? Is there a way I can show you friendship in this matter?" His fingers flinched on her still shoulder, and he kept himself from pulling his fingertips higher and into her hair.

"There is a way, but I fear there is no friend."

"There is me."

"It is not your problem, Mr. Darcy. You have no reason to pull my good Jane's name from the depths of filth it has been thrown in." She still stared out the window, her body motionless and cold beneath his hand.

"But it is, and I will. Elizabeth… dearest, loveliest Elizabeth… I do love nothing in the world so much as I love you. Is not that strange?" He did now move his hand to her cheek, pulling it up and down her smooth, tearstained skin.

"As strange as me saying that I love nothing so much as I love you. No, do not believe me… but I do not lie!" She stood abruptly and leaned in close to him, placing her forehead on his chest. "Oh! I do not know my feelings at this moment! I feel only hurt for Jane!"

"My Lord, Elizabeth! You do love me, I know it!" He wrapped his arms fiercely around her shaking body and thrust his face into her shoulder.

"Do not swear if you should be lying, Mr. Darcy," she said softly into his jacket, putting her hands against his stomach and pushing away from him.

"But I do not fear of lying when I swear you love me, and I will kill the man who swears I am lying when I say I love you!" He reached after her turned back but she flinched out of his grasp.

"Then you do no lie?" she asked as she turned and faced him, her arms crossed over her chest.

"No. I protest from the depths of my heart, I love you!" His words were calm and gentle now, and he let a small satisfied smile grace his lips. It was freedom just to say it, to let her know, to assure her of his devotion.

"Then I am sorry, Mr. Darcy."

"Sorry for what? You have done me no wrong, sweet Elizabeth."

"I have questioned your words, your feelings, when I have been all morning on the verge of telling you the very same." She now dropped her gaze to the floor, shuddering a deep breath.

But Darcy would not have it, lifting her chin to bring her gaze even with this own, he spoke. "Do, Elizabeth. Do tell me what your heart would say."

"Only… only that it loves you so completely that there is no part of it left to protest."

He pulled her into his arms and sighed the contented sigh of the loved. "I will do anything for you Elizabeth. That is what I thought when you asked me this morning if I would perform you a favor, that I would do whatever you asked of me. And I will, dearest. You have but to ask it of me."

Elizabeth remained silent, horrible thoughts churning through her head. When her voice finally gave voice to thought, they caused Darcy to pull away from her. "Call Bingley out. Challenge him." Her voice was steady, her body calm for the first time since she'd collapsed to her knees in front of the window.

"A duel? With my friend? No, Elizabeth, not for you, not for the wide world." He turned his gaze from her to the window. Clouds had gathered low over Netherfield, blocking the late morning sun. Rain would come. He could hear the faint grumblings of thunder in the distance.

"Then you deny me." She turned towards the bed and stuffed the shawl she still clutched in her hand into the bag there. She pulled the bag closed and strode towards the door. "Goodbye Mr. Darcy."

"Elizabeth! Wait!"

"No, I must leave and get Jane to Longbourn."

"Do not leave upset with me," he pleaded, holding onto her upper arm and pulling her towards him.

She pulled her arm from his grasp. "You lied, Mr. Darcy. You said you would do anything I asked of you. But you refuse. I must assume you lie also when you say you love me."

"He is my friend, Elizabeth," he argued with her, dropping both arms dejectedly to his sides.

"And he has wronged my sister most grievously! My father will not be able to force the man to marry Jane, and Bingley would surely kill him in a duel, leaving us all out in the cold, passed over by a cousin we've never met! Who is there to defend Jane's honor but I? And I am not a man! I am not allowed to do what men are, what you are! If I were a man, I would defend her." Her words rose louder and louder as she talked, her face red with rage until her words died suddenly. The next she spoke, her voice was calm and cold with defeat. "But I am not a man. I do not have a man's facilities and privileges. And there will be no one to defend poor Jane." She opened the door to the room and stepped one foot out before Darcy stopped her.

"Wait," he said softly. "I do love you. I do."

"Do not tell me. Show me." She did not look at him. In truth, she did not feel completely as if she were being fair to Mr. Darcy. But the anger in her heart overrode the feelings for the man she loved. In the heat of rage, she did not care how much it might hurt Darcy to have to run his friend through with a sword.

"You are quite sure this is what you want? There is no other way?"

"None whatsoever. There is nothing else I want." But you, added her heart, but she ignored it.

Darcy sighed deeply and turned away from her. "Then I will challenge him. I will go to him once you and Jane have left, and tell him I am leaving Netherfield for an inn in the village. And… and that he must pay for the slanders he has spoken, the young girl he has hurt beyond repair." He took her hand and raised it to his lips, lingering longer on his soft skin than he should have. "Go to your sister, comfort her. If you have left anything, I will bring it by on my way to the village today. Everything will be all right. I swear it. When you think of me, know that I take your pain upon myself, and endeavor to lessen it.

Elizabeth, who had been staring down the hallway the entire time, pulled her eyes toward his and bit her lip. There was such confusion and pain in her glance that Darcy was almost glad when she pulled her hand from his and walked away without a single word.

Asterisks are taken almost wholly or partially from the much ado text. However, I realized once I started writing the exchange between Darcy and Elizabeth, that this was so wonderful, I did not want to over change it at all. If it is not direct quotation in this part, then the conversation follows the same pattern. Everything there would have had an asterisk beside it, so I left off using them.

This line is taken from the movie Ever After. It was just screaming at me to go there. I had to use it.


End file.
